The Pull
by Balanced
Summary: In a moment of weakness House and Wilson give in to their feelings for each other, but then can't go back to the way things were.  Rated M just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**The Pull**

**Author's Note: **Well, okay. I'm obsessed, so I had to write something. Consider yourself forewarned that this work is going to be slightly darker than what I normally write. It is, by no stretch of the imagination, dark. It's just going to be a little bit more dramatic than what I'm used to. Normally my "House" stories get the 'romance,' 'humor' section, but not The Pull.

**Author's Note 2: **I did a once-over with the editing, but it's after five in the morning here, and there was no way I wasn't posting this tonight, after how long I worked on it. So if I missed anything just let me know and I'll be happy to fix it. If you read, please review.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Not House, not Hercule Poirot_,_ not even potatoes.

The thing about love, I've always known, is the soft spot I have for it. That's how I consistently justified leaving my wives. I told myself (and my best friend each time he started in with the abuse) that you can't help who you fall in love with. House, the aforementioned friend, always chose to answer with something just hilarious like, "No, but you _can_ help who you fall naked _beside_." Oh yeah. He's a riot. In my defense I didn't cheat on Julie, though is an emotional affair cheating? Somehow I suspect that Dr. Phil would say yes. But, then, is it even an emotional affair if the other party remains blissfully unaware?

Okay, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let me start over.

I love House; I guess I always have. It's hard not love someone that bails you out of jail just for the hell of it. There are days that I find myself wondering if, save for Amber, I've ever even loved anyone else and the answers are a little disconcerting. I never considered myself a romantic until I met Greg.

I hid it well, I think. My friend, the eternal Hercule Poirot_,_ seemed to somehow miss the fact that the person he saw every day spent every night fantasizing about waking up with him.

Nevertheless, there were times that I thought my own looks and actions were impossible to misinterpret. How many people buy their friends expensive organs just because they feel like it? And I knew, even then, that at that moment my carefully placed mask had slipped completely away and that if he had been paying attention there would have been no denying it. But, presumably he hadn't been. He never brought it up, never accused me of the one thing of which I was guilty.

So after that, I determinedly put it behind me. Or, rather, I tried. I dated nurses, and exes, and still, thoughts of the man I couldn't have continued to torture me.

And then, the one thing I feared nearly more than anything else came to pass. House started dating Cuddy.

It was my worst nightmare. I'd grown accustomed to being the person he loved most in the world and didn't particularly enjoy knowing that my ownership of the title was now in danger. But I did what I always did. I accepted the fact that you can't help who you love, and put all my energy into backing this Epic Romance.

Well, for a while, anyway.

"Wilson," yelled a very familiar voice from outside my office door. A banging noise swiftly followed, and in my mind's eye I watched a long brown cane being slammed against my door. "Wilson!"

Rolling my eyes at House's deep contempt for long waits –or waits of any kind, really- I turned the doorknob, and then raised my eyebrows at the man standing in front of me. Unabashed eyes gazed back at me serenely, as if he hadn't been the one causing the noise.

"What," I demanded in mock annoyance. Truthfully, once you've spent 15 years in someone's company they really lose the ability to shock you. But, as House himself had mentioned to me before, I knew that nice bored him, so I reverted to the part I knew so well. "I'm busy," I said, though I wasn't.

He ignored my comment. "We're hanging out tonight," he said. This wasn't a request.

"We are," I asked him in surprise. Last I'd heard he'd had dinner plans with Cuddy (my stomach rolled over in revulsion at the thought but I patiently reminded it that we couldn't, fairly, blame _her_).

He nodded shortly, and it was only then that I really took in his expression. The eyes that had been so carefully blank now seemed guarded, and I couldn't help noticing that his thin lips were pressed together in a hard line.

"House," I prompted.

He shook his head, a warning for me to drop it, so I shrugged. "Eight o' clock okay?"

"Eight's fine. I'll meet you at the loft."

* * *

I'd planned to stay late at work that day, but Guy Time had been rather scarce as of late, and I found myself distracted during each of my patient consults. When April Landon had to ask me three times about her meds I knew it was time to pack it in.

I spent the next couple of hours theorizing about the reason for the impromptu get-together. I knew that I could ask Cuddy and she would tell me, but considering my feelings for her boyfriend, I decided that it was a little inappropriate. I had a feeling that if she knew about my said feelings she wouldn't be too keen on sharing information with me.

In yet another display of culinary genius I marinated then grilled up a couple of steaks and boiled a few potatoes. Strictly speaking, it was a little late for dinner, but I knew my friend well enough to know that he would expect a full meal when he joined me.

And when he walked in the door at 7:58 (he was early? What the hell?) it was as though I had scripted his first words.

"Evening, Jimmy. What's for dinner?"

I pointed to the oven. "But you're early, so it's going to be a few minutes."

He glanced at the time and then cocked an eyebrow. "I'm one minute early."

"Well, we said 8:00, so naturally I wasn't expecting you until a quarter to nine."

"That'll teach you to assume. Sometimes I like to mix it up."

I chose not to point out that this was not usually the case.

He took a seat on one of the barstools and, though my back was turned, I could feel the riveting blue eyes watching me cook.

A shiver shot up my spine.

"So, you feel like telling me what happened today," I asked, mostly to fill the silence. I really didn't want to hear about this but I was supposed to be his best friend.

I expected a deflection, so it was with a little shock that I listened to his genuine response:

"Oh, that? I think Cuddy and I broke up."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**_:_ As always, thank you all for the reviews and the adds. You're my raison d'être. And I use the French because House is an ass (anyone that can place that paraphrased reference gets a serious gold star).

"Honestly, I'm not sure what happened," House elaborated 30 minutes later as we finished eating. "One minute it was all puppies and rainbows, and the next she's saying that she can't be with a man that isn't ready to be a father." He sighed and leaned back against the cushions on the couch. "Maybe I was right from the beginning. Maybe this isn't a good match."

He glanced at me to gauge my reaction, so I knew I had to speak. "You're probably overreacting. You and Cuddy have been a long time coming." There. That seemed like decent advice, like something you'd expect your best friend to say.

There was a long moment of silence as he finished his beer and I absentmindedly nursed my own. I wasn't going to get my hopes up about this breakup. House and Cuddy did this kind of thing every week.

"I'm not sure if I want to go back anyway," he finally continued, setting the bottle on the floor beside him. Something in his voice caught my attention, and I turned towards him, not even sure what I was expecting. But the undiluted, unmistakable, gripping desire reflecting in his eyes was definitely a surprise.

I dropped my gaze, swallowing hard and at a loss for words. No way had I just seen that. But that was a little hard to believe when House was taking my drink from my hand and returning it to the coffee table.

I opened my mouth, determined to speak, fully aware that if I let myself start this, that there was no way I could stop, but suddenly it was covered. It was skin, rough and uneven that pressed against my lower lip and chin. And then it was lips that moved against my own.

This couldn't be happening, I knew it couldn't, because this right here was reality, not 5:00 nap time. But it felt very real when he cupped the side of my face lightly with his hand.

"Wilson," he said quietly, a little exasperatedly, and it was only then that I realized that I had remained completely stationary throughout the exchange. He pulled away, staring into my eyes, asking my permission to continue.

So I reached up, grabbed his face with both of my hands, and mashed our lips together once more.

It was different than what I was used to, there was no denying it. House's unshaven beard rubbed my neck as his kisses moved lower, before coming to a rest on my collar bone. I couldn't smother a moan when he switched to light sucking. My head fell backwards as if of its own accord, and my fingers tangled in his hair.

I didn't notice he was guiding me forwards until we were lying, length-wise on the couch, myself on top. I had to shift slightly to find a comfortable position, one that avoided any contact with my friend's injured leg, and when I found one I trailed kisses down his throat.

"Greg," I gasped when I felt his hands find the bottom of my tee shirt, though he didn't immediately pull it off. Instead, he slipped his hands under the fabric, and stroked my back with his thumbs. I shivered at the feather-soft contact before reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

As though spurred on by my boldness he yanked my shirt over my head, then, using his elbows for leverage, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my shoulders, my chest.

Impatiently, I undid each of his button in turn, but when I got to the bottom one, my trembling fingers accidently caused it to pop off.

"Oh, God, sorry," I squeaked.

"Not really worried about it right now," he answered gruffly.

I sat up, pulling him with me, so that I would be able to get his shirt off more easily, and when he was sitting in front of me, bare-chested, my breath caught in my throat. We were actually doing this. I couldn't resist licking one of his nipples and he rewarded me with a low groan.

"Greg," I said again when I felt his fingertips touch my jean button. I backed up slightly, clawing through a cloud of desire so I could get this out. "Lisa?"

And he kissed me again, furiously, his lips working tirelessly against my own; I pressed back, just as frantic. His tongue came inside my mouth and it searched every corner, as though determined to commit every warm crevice to memory.

I moaned when he pulled away, already forgetting that I'd asked a question.

"It's over with Lisa," he told me firmly. As he began to carefully unzip my jeans he met my gaze. "Don't you get that I want you?"

My heart fluttered at the sincerity in the words, and I gave no other argument all evening.

* * *

When I woke the next morning I wasn't surprised to see that House had left sometime before. Staying all night would have meant cuddling this morning, which he wasn't into, or talking, which he definitely wasn't into. Nevertheless, I sang so loudly in the shower that my upstairs neighbor pounded angrily on my ceiling, and I grinned from ear to ear as I finished getting ready.

House and I had had sex! Twice! It (I) was so good that he actually cried out at the end of the second go-around. I'd had sex with the man that I loved. Unbelievable.

As I gathered my stuff together for work I thought, with a pang, of Cuddy. I wasn't sure how she would respond to her ex-boyfriend moving on with me the day after their breakup and no matter what I felt for House, I would have hated to hurt my friend.

We'll wait to tell her, I decided. Let the woman think he was wallowing in self pity for a couple of weeks. Of course, it didn't escape my notice that there was a good chance, no matter how long we waited to start things up officially, that it might be the end of my friendship with the woman. Maybe it would be easier for all involved if I started looking for other employment. That way Lisa could work in peace without being constantly reminded of my betrayal. I felt confident that she and (I had to smile) my boyfriend would repair their professional relationship.

I left for the hospital a little early, hoping that House would have made it in by now. I had to ask him what he thought about my work situation. And maybe there would be time for…

But where, I wondered as the elevators lifted me to the floor housing the oncology and diagnostics departments. Then I was struck with brilliance. My office, of course. We would just have to steer clear of the door to my balcony.

And that was what I was thinking when I rounded the corner and saw Cuddy and House through the clear walls of his office in a passionate kiss.

I wanted to freeze in my tracks, but somehow my feet drew me closer. Not caring that I probably looked a little like a psychopath I opened the door to his office, and then pointedly cleared my throat.

"So, what's going on here," I asked, in a decent impression of teasing.

Lisa smiled at me, and took my boyfriend's hand. "Nothing, nothing. We're just getting back together."

And my world seemed to explode.

**A/N: **That's so sad! Stay tuned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: People are so mad at House and I haven't even _began _to assassinate his character. This chapter took so long because I planned to post it and the next chapter together, because House is pretty horrible at the end, and he's a bit better in Chapter Four. But I'm bored at work, so I went ahead and decided to update. If you read, please review.

I turned to House, hiding the disbelief that I felt. They were getting back together? Hadn't he told me, not 12 hours before, that he didn't want to go back to her? "So, you're back together then," I asked him.

He stared at me, turbulence in his clear blue eyes, but nevertheless, he answered, "Yeah. Happened this morning."

Oh. So, while I had spent the hours since I had woken up envisioning a life with my best friend, he had been making up with the woman that he, apparently, loved. Made perfect sense.

Realizing I hadn't responded, I forced a overly-cheerful, "Well, that's great. Mozel Tov!" Then, using work as my excuse, I quickly strode from the room.

Okay. Okay. House was with Cuddy again. Breathe in, breathe out. No big deal. We'd had sex, but he had gone back to his girlfriend. Oh, God, he hadn't told her, had he? But no, she'd seemed fine, and this was House, after all - he wasn't exactly the poster child for truthfulness. He'd say they were broken up anyway, so there would be no need to tell her.

I was so relieved to see my office door that I flung the damn thing open with all my strength. It was a bit juvenile to take my anger out on a long wooden slab, but the sound it made when it slammed against the opposite wall was very satisfying. However, there was a beat before I heard it close, and I spun around to face the other man in the room.

"House, get out," I snapped, shaking in fury. I realized that I'd curled my fists up into balls. "Get out of here."

He took a step further inside and I inadvertently backed away. "Okay, I get it, you're mad," he began.

"No, I'm not," I cut him off. "It's fine. No problem. Great, in fact. I mean, getting back together with your ex... That's big news." I was babbling- I could hear myself- but I couldn't stop. "But I have a lot of work to do, as I mentioned, and don't you have a case?" Actually, I had no idea, but I was taking a stab in the dark.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded at my hands. "And, thus, you want to take a swing at me," he inquired. "Makes perfect sense."

I glared back, trying to get my rage and humiliation under control. How could I even be surprised? I knew him better than anyone else so I should have been able to predict that he was always going to do what was right for him, and to hell with everyone else. And clearly Cuddy was who he wanted.

With each passing moment I could feel the future I had been painting for us getting further and further away.

"Wilson," he said softly, slipping, slightly, back into the man from last night. Every part of me seemed to ache. "I have to try to make this work with Cuddy. I love her."

I nodded, unable to speak or meet his gaze, though I could feel his eyes burning holes into me. With the pretense of examining paperwork I didn't look up again until he was gone.

* * *

The rest of the day dragged on endlessly and it seemed as though I'd never get through it. Thankfully, however, I had a light work load, and spent every free minute in the Clinic, ducking into supply closets whenever I saw House walk through. I had no idea if he was searching for me or not- all I knew was that I could not, under any circumstances, be around him, at least for a while. Memories from the night before were becoming impossible to ignore. My heartbeat sped up as I listened to him tell me again: Don't you get that I want you?

I was relieved to get home. I stepped into the loft, pulling off my coat, and hitting the play button on the answering machine as I walked by.

"Wilson, it's me," came House's voice, filling the room.

"Leave me alone," I answered the machine.

"Cuddy wanted me to see if you are free for dinner tonight. I told her yes-"

"What?"

"So she's expecting you to meet us at Demarco's at seven. And don't bother calling her to cancel because her cell phone has, uh, mysteriously disappeared, and we'll be out most of the evening. See you tonight!"

"Why are you torturing me," I bellowed in frustration. I picked up a glass pitcher to hurl at the floor, but came to my senses in the nick of time. It wouldn't have resolved anything to destroy my stuff, and I did like that pitcher. It was too bad that House hadn't left behind any of his guitars.

Unfortionately, however, I saw no way out of the dinner invitation. House had evidently kidnapped Cuddy's phone, and wouldn't relay a message to her from me. I could call the restaurant, but she was really too intelligent for that-she would definitely suspect that something was up, and that was the last thing I wanted.

I changed in the bedroom, silently fuming that, once again, House had managed to force my hand. I'd never forgive him for all of this, I decided. We would be work colleagues, and that was all. A vision of House's disappointed face darted into my mind unbidden and I felt a wave of guilt. But, no, it was for the best.

Demarco's was packed when I arrived, but the pair I was meeting was easy to spot up front. Cuddy gave me a friendly wave and smile that I mimicked to the best of my ability. Carefully arranging my expression to something appropriate for dinner with friends, I took the empty seat.

"Lisa," I said warmly. "House." I cleared my throat. "How are you?"

"Good," the woman replied. She squeezed House's hand affectionately as I resisted the urge to scream.

Almost as though reading my thoughts, he pulled his arm away before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Good. He should be uncomfortable. Ass. "I solved my case."

"How nice." Did that sound sarcastic? I tried again. "What did he have?"

"Wilson's Disease."

"Well." I racked my brain for something else I could say. "Isn't that something?"

Luckily, the waiter chose that moment to get our drink orders and when he left Lisa turned to me. "What did you do last night," she asked, drinking from the water glass in front of her.

I looked down to keep from glancing at House. "Nothing. Just watched T.V." I was pleased to note that I kept my voice convincingly even.

"Did you see that thing about leukemia on the Discovery Channel?"

For crying out loud! "No, I must have missed it. Was it interesting?"

As Lisa launched into a recap of the show, I chanced a look at House, then nearly jumped when I caught his eye-he'd been staring at me. Flushing lightly, I quickly returned my attention to Cuddy.

"They were using these case studies from Arizona," she was telling me.

I nodded as though I found this information fascinating, then was given a quick break when the waiter dropped off the drinks, and took our orders. Then, when Cuddy finished explaining, to my dismay, she got to her feet and departed for the restroom.

I quietly drank some of my beer and, just like I knew he would, House said, "Wilson."

"Don't," I said sharply. "There's nothing left to talk about, and certainly not in a crowded restaurant while you're girlfriend is in the bathroom."

"When, then," he pressed. "Later?"

"We have nothing to discuss."

"Yes, we do."

* * *

Since Cuddy and House had driven to the restaurant together, he rode with me when we departed for his apartment. No way was I bringing him to the loft - it would be that much harder to storm out in a fit of anger. I'd hoped that Cuddy would require his presence on the evening of their reconciliation, but it turned out that she was going to have to spend the night at the hospital anyway. One of their biggest benefactor's daughter had been admitted with appendicitis.

"Okay, so what was so important," I demanded when I walked in the door. We'd remained silent in the car ride over, which had only given me more time to stew.

"Tell me why you're angry."

I laughed loudly. "You have to be kidding."

"I thought you'd understand."

"That you were lonely and horny? Believe me, House, I _do_ understand." God, I could have killed him. I literally could have reached over and throttled him with my bare hands.

He gazed across the room at me and I couldn't help noticing that his face seemed void of sarcasm- but then, how much could I trust my instincts about that man? It had never occurred to me that he would ever do anything like this.

"Look, I told you about Cuddy."

I shook my head and began walking back to the door. "If we're just going to be rehashing what you've already said, then I really don't think I need to be here. I heard you just fine the first time."

"What am I supposed to say here, Wilson," he yelled as my hand grasped the handle. "What are you waiting to hear? An apology?"

I couldn't find my voice.

"Well, okay! I'm sorry I fucked you! I'm sorry, because I should have known that you would never be able to just chalk it up to a one night stand, and leave it at that."

I could not believe what I was hearing. House and I had a history of total candor-a lack of a social contract when it came to our relationship. This meant, on more than one occasion, that I had to put aside my hurt feelings for the good of 'us.' I'd had to accept the fact long ago that that was just how he was, and knowing that he didn't mean it would just have to be enough.

But as I stared at the man across from me I wondered if I even knew him. There had been a line, once, hadn't there? An envelope that even he would never push? So this cruel streak was a recent development, was that what I was saying?

Then, all at once, I knew I really, honestly, just couldn't care anymore.

"Screw you, House," I heard myself say softly. That wasn't even _close _to the words of fury I wanted to unleash, but in the end what did it matter? He wouldn't hear me; he'd never see my side. And this time, somehow, I couldn't sweep it under the rug.

And without a backward glance I stormed out.


	4. Chapter 4

Days drifted into weeks that drifted into months. I'd thought there was no way that I could get past the sting of my best friend's (yes, I was still calling him that, if only to myself) rejection but somehow I did. I even began to think that I was getting to a point where I could stomach being in the same room as him without having the serious urge to physically hurt him.

Not that I had a chance to test this theory for quite a while-apparently any determinations about cancer could now be sufficiently handled by any of the regular oncologists in the department. It would have been so much easier if I simply could have cut him completely out of my life, but I had tried that once before and had failed miserably. It was like dieting: if you eliminate your favorite foods out of your eating regimen you were much more likely to cheat. No, I needed to know that we were in the same hospital to avoid a House-binge.

Even though I wasn't seeing him at all, I remained tuned in to his life. I heard when he accidently set a patient on fire, when he and Cuddy got a dog, then when they gave it away three days later. After a few weeks everyone was talking about the fights House and Cuddy seemed to be having an increasing amount of. I watched in stunned silence as he yelled from across the lobby that he, "quite frankly would rather be alone than have to deal with _this_ every day." And yet, they stayed together. They flew south for the holidays then spent weeks pouring over paint samples as they considered redecorating the kitchen.

When winter moved into spring signs began popping up everywhere, advertising the upcoming charity event, a Poker Tournament that would be held on the bottom floor. I considered not going (there was no doubt that House would be attending: gambling was already attractive to him, and plus, dating the Dean of Medicine would require it) but in the end I told myself that I couldn't allow my brief encounter with him to continue to color my every move.

So on the evening of the Poker Event I stepped into the hospital, staring resolutely ahead. I would not look for him, I decided. I had to remain as far as possible from the web of insanity.

There was no shortage of tables so I chose one at random, and pulled out the chips that I had gotten when I'd first arrived. It was only then that I glanced around at the other players. There was Dr. Ottman from Cardiology, Lana Andrews, a medical assistant, and . . . Of course. How could I really have expected anything else? House was sitting to my immediate right.

Though I was severely tempted to do so, I resisted the urge to jump to my feet and seek refuge at another table. House was doing an excellent job of pretending that he didn't know me, so there was no reason to overreact.

As the dealer passed out the cards, I couldn't help noticing that Lana was eyeing me from across the table. I had no interest in starting something new, but House's deep frown in my peripheral vision made me feel slightly victorious.

"So, Ms. Andrews," House suddenly addressed her, and I looked up sharply. "I'm surprised to see you here tonight."

"Why," she asked him, as warning bells went off loudly in my head.

He gave a shrug that was supposed to be nonchalant, and gazed at her innocently. "Well, I just assumed that since your husband left you for your aunt that you spent all of your evenings cooped up at home, crippled with self-doubt." He smiled cheerfully. "Glad to see that I was wrong."

Oh God. Lana buried her face in her hands and I got to my feet, announcing that I was folding. I stepped away from the table, hearing House quietly following me. Once we were several yards away, out of earshot, I spun around and broke my vow of silence.

"What the hell is the matter with you," I hissed angrily. "Are you just going to be torturing everyone I might have a chance with now?" I paused. "Well, I suppose that's really no different than normal."

I half-expected him to outright refuse to answer, but instead he immediately replied, "You cannot be interested in that girl-she's like 20."

"Do I need to remind you about the 16 year old that you let follow you around for days."

"That was years ago," he retorted.

"Why are you doing this to me," I asked after a moment, when it became clear that he wasn't going to continue. "Why do you even care if I _am_ interested in a 20 year old? It's not like I'm in a relationship." And as the words escaped my lips I knew that I couldn't go back to the way things were- I couldn't be the best friend anymore. Because of what we had done so many months ago, I would, from here on out, be cast in the role of the wounded ex-lover. I couldn't give impartial relationship advice anymore, or be a sympathetic ear. I hated to even think about it but even in that instant I was struck by how much I had lost, because I'd given in to what I had wanted.

I wondered if he saw a flicker behind my eyes because he rushed to speak, as though suddenly aware of what was at stake. "Wilson, can't we please just be friends again," was his simple plea.

I swallowed back words of reconciliation then slowly I shook my head. He said nothing, but really, what could he say?

Them, as though to add insult to injury, Lisa approached from the side. I tried not to flinch when she slipped an arm around House's waist. She must have immediately sensed that she had walked into the middle of something, because she uncomfortably cleared her throat and said quickly, "Oh! I can give you guys a minute."

"No," I said. "I was just telling House that I'm not feeling well. Thought I might go home."

"Okay." Was it my imagination or did she sound suspicious? But it could have just as easily been confusion in her voice.

With a small sigh I left the room and walked quickly to my car. I'd left my poker chips on the table, I realized, as I began opening the driver's side door. Oh well. House could have-

I felt pressure on my back, and turned to see House standing inches away. He wordlessly reached behind me and closed the door, then gently pushed me back against it. I was aware of my heart racing painfully in my chest, then of nothing at all because he was kissing me. And, God, was he _kissing_ me. He was everywhere I was, and even when he pulled away, he traced my lips with his tongue. "This isn't an easy decision," he said quietly. "I don't want you to think it is." And with those final words, he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the reviews! You guys so totally rock.

House's words haunted me through the evening and into the morning. I thought incessantly of the look in his eyes, and the way his chest had felt, pressed up against my own. I had spent years mentally outlining all of his antics and insanity to try to find a way to convince myself that my feelings were reciprocated. But regardless of the many sleepless nights I'd had, I always circled back to the same thing. I loved him. A little obsessively. And he... Didn't seem to feel the same way.

But with that small comment ("This isn't an easy decision.") everything I had decided from the very beginning was up in the air. If House truly only saw me as a friend, this would be a very easy decision, right? He wouldn't be shooting me tortured looks across poker tables, or coming up behind me to give me a clandestine kiss. These were not the actions of someone who just wanted to be friends. And suddenly all the doubts about his feelings were gone. I knew, the way I thought I had probably always known, that he was in love with me too.

I'd decided what to do before I even reached the hospital.

The moment I stepped through the sliding glass doors I stole a look to the right, then breathed a deep sigh of relief. Cuddy was alone in her office. Well, that was _one _crisis averted. I hadn't prepared at all for what I would say if House had been in there with her.

My footsteps seemed to echo more loudly than normal, but I was certain that was my nerves talking. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation by any stretch of the imagination. I tapped lightly on the glass doors, then entered her office when she nodded.

For just a moment I stood there in silence, my voice dying in my throat. For the 12000th time that day, I wondered if I was doing the right thing, but I reminded myself that the alternative was much, much worse.

"Wilson," she eventually prompted.

"I have something to tell you." I couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, I opted to stare carefully at my fingernails. I couldn't say it. But I had to. But I couldn't. But I had to. Inwardly I went back and forth, and she didn't interrupt, giving me time to prepare. "I'm in love with House."

There. The words were out in the open, and I couldn't take them back. The fact of the matter was that I couldn't live with the guilt of betraying one of my closest friends. She trusted me around her boyfriend, but she deserved to know that she shouldn't.

I waited as she processed the information. "How long," she finally asked me.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. I'd decided before I had even left the loft this morning that I was going to be truthful, no matter what. Which brought me to the next part. "I need you to understand that..." I cleared my throat, licked my lips. There was a lump in the back of my throat that was hard to swallow. "I'm going to, uh..." Spit it out! "I"m going to fight for him." I exhaled a breath I didn't notice that I had been holding.

I heard her get to her feet, then cross the room so that she was standing in front of me. For one horrified second I thought she was going to slap me across the face, but instead, she just said, "Does it aggravate _House _when you do that?"

I glanced up in surprise. "Do what?"

She was rolling her eyes at me. "Do something terrible, then act so guilty that it's hard to hate you. Does it annoy him too?"

Daring hope swept over me until she pursed her lips. "But I do have to hate you for this," she added. "I'm sorry, but I love him too." She lowered her eyes. "And you're my friend."

"I know." I wanted to reach for her, hug her, but I knew I couldn't. We weren't on the same side anymore. I had done what I had to do, but that didn't mean it was easy.

"I appreciate you telling me, though." She gave me an appraising look. "You'll make a fine second choice."

I laughed, and some of the tension in my stomach unclenched. We wouldn't be friends again, but we could probably keep working together. Maybe I'd get lucky and no worse punishment would befall me.

I chose then to make my exit, rather than wait for an invitation from Cuddy. I wanted her to know that I had total respect for her privacy.

As the glass doors closed behind me, I caught sight of the other person I needed to speak with. House continued his path to the elevators, unaware that I fell into a step behind him. He pressed the "Up" button, and the elevator doors opened to reveal that it was empty. When he stepped inside, I followed.

"Is there a reason that you're trailing after me like a lost puppy," he asked me the moment the doors closed.

"I told Cuddy," I answered. Regardless of the fear raging through me, my voice didn't shake.

His eyes snapped up and he regarded me in astonishment. "You... told Cuddy," he repeated slowly. "About us having sex?"

And I knew that this was going to be the hard part. The words that had come so easily (well, if not easily, than easi_er_, anyway) when the statement had been to his girlfriend, but intense blue eyes unnerved me. Nevertheless I steeled myself for his reaction because, if nothing else, I needed him to hear it from me. "Not that." The elevator dinged, and as the doors began to open, I blurted out, before it was too late, "That I'm in love with you."

I hadn't needed to worry about his reaction, as it turned out, because his team was standing on the other side of the doors, totally oblivious to what had just transpired. As I swept out of the confessional and around the other doctors, I tried to identify which emotion I was feeling, then allowed the smallest of smiles to play across my lips when I realized that it was... excitement. I was excited.

Okay, so things seemed a bit bleak now, there was no use in denying it. I had lost both of my closest friends in one fell swoop and I wasn't really any closer to being with House than before. However, I had succeeded in coming completely clean with him, and being upfront with Cuddy had been the right thing to do.

And now I could pursue him without guilt. _Well,_ I amended to myself, thinking of Cuddy's sad, lowered eyes, _without _crushing _guilt_.

I'd told House that I loved him, I marveled once more. I had always intended for it to be softly whispered over a candlelight dinner, but blurting it out in an empty elevator was just as effective. And now I just needed to see how he responded.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Well, here you have it. The last chapter. I thought about dragging out House's reaction to Wilson's declaration of love, but it didn't really seem like him. He doesn't seem to do too well with the "patience is a virtue" thing. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing and I hope you'll read the next piece I have in the works.

When I stepped inside my office I collapsed into my desk chair and rubbed my face with my hands. I had no regrets, but that didn't stop me from feeling the severity of what I had done. God, how was I supposed to go about my day as if nothing was different? As if House wasn't wandering around the hospital, contemplating my declaration of love.

There was a loud SLAM, and when my heart rate returned to normal, I chanced a glance up. Of course it was my best friend standing in front of me. (So I was technically wrong. He wasn't wandering around the hospital.) And he looked pretty annoyed.

Okay, so not the loving embrace I had been hoping for.

For a moment he did nothing but merely glower at me from the other side of the room until he gave a deep sigh and dropped his shoulders. "This sucks," he muttered.

I swallowed hard, fear pulsing through my veins. "What sucks?"

"This whole thing. The situation. It sucks."

"Okay, back up. What are we talking about specifically?"

There was a long silence before he spoke again. "The word 'timing' comes to mind," he finally answered. He couldn't meet my gaze.

"Timing," I repeated blankly. As far as reasons went, it was pretty weak, although, if that was his only problem, then this was actually good news. It meant that feelings for me were not the issue, and that my darling friend was running out of excuses.

I stood, then quietly closed the gap between us. I had told Cuddy that I was going to fight for the man standing in front of me, and so that was what I planned to do. "I want you to tell me what you feel for me," I told him when we were standing about six inches apart. I half-expected him to take an uneasy step back, until I locked my eyes on his own and saw the blazing indecision in them.

"Don't do this," he said softly.

I really couldn't help it. I reached forward and ran my thumb along his jawline. "I'm afraid I don't have a choice anymore," I responded honestly, as a shiver of electricity shot up my spine and my heart fluttered. I waited for him to bat my hand away, but instead he just sighed again, and leaned into my touch. "And I asked you a question," I added.

"I don't know." Pause. "But I do know that it's becoming increasingly difficult to stay away from you."

My heart skipped a beat even as I reminded myself that this was what I had been banking on anyway. Nevertheless, it was a little surreal to hear him say the words.

I couldn't trust my voice, I knew it would shake, so I waited for him to continue.

He took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak again, and... There was a sharp knock on the door.

I jumped a mile and dropped my hand before I'd even realized it. "Damn it," I nearly shrieked in frustration. Before I turned to answer the door I saw the corner of House's lips turn upwards. Well, that was something.

Thankfully, it wasn't Cuddy, but Chase who was standing in the doorway, looking incredibly suspcious.

"Is... House in there," he asked me, trying to peer around my frame and into the room. I was taller, though, and with the door pressed against my side, I knew I was the only thing he could see.

"Why," I asked, reminding myself that I couldn't strangle the young doctor. Murder was, I supposed, always wrong. "Is it an emergency?"

_Please say no._

Chase narrowed his eyes at me, and suddenly I knew that he knew. Truthfully, he had always been the person on House's team that reminded me most of the diagnostician because of his disconcerting ability to see behind the lies. House had told me once that Chase had been the only person to guess that he was the one who ruined Foreman's job interview all those years before.

"Not an emergency," he eventually said. "But," he raised his voice slightly, "not Lupus." It was clear he was speaking to House. Apparently he and the team had been working on a new case. "We're going to check the patient's home to rule out environmental factors." He waited for a moment, evidently to see if his invisible boss was going to argue, but House said nothing, giving his consent.

Chase raised an eyebrow at me. "Whenever you, um, see him, just tell him that we've got it under control. There's," and he upped his volume again, "_no hurry_."

Before he could say anything else, I placed my hand on his chest, and gently but firmly pushed him from the room and shut the door.

"You couldn't hire idiots," I complained to my friend when I turned to face him, and then to my surprise, he laughed.

"You're not counting Taub," he answered lightly. The air in the room had shifted, and the seriousness had all but faded completely.

I rolled my eyes. "Can you please just admit that you're in love with me so that we can wrap this conversation up?" I'd decided to ditch the formalities and just jump to the end.

"You're becoming redundant."

I shrugged. "Well, it doesn't mean I'm wrong."

His eyes moved to mine, and it was like we hadn't been interrupted at all. I slipped my hands into my pockets so he couldn't see them shake and waited for his next words, because I knew they held his decision.

"You're not wrong."

I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face, even though I knew I looked like a moron. "I'm... not?"

"You're kidding, right? Now you're insecure?" But his voice was teasing, and then, just like that he was in front of me, brushing brown hair from my forehead. "You need a haircut," he said, smirking slightly.

I wanted to respond with something snarky, but when he moved his fingertips to my lips, gently tracing them, it was hard to focus. Then his hand fell to his side.

"I guess we should do this the right way," he said, annoyance filtering into his voice. "I need to go talk to Cuddy."

I wondered if he read my mind or my expression because he added, "I'm coming right back. I won't change my mind again."

"I know," I replied. And I did.

**A/N: ** I'm really annoyed with the ending, because I wanted to add an epilogue or something so that it was plain that they ended up together (in my world they always, always do) but everything I tried to tack on sounded forced and fake. So I'm ending it here and just telling you, so that there is no misunderstanding, that they lived happily ever after. Well, as happily as House can be.


End file.
